Valiant Video Enterprises
by THE Brandon Brownson
Summary: Lionel Starkweather has fallen. However, there is still a production company to run... rated M mostly for violence and language, though there may be other nasty things about.
1. Bloody Bill

Bloody Bill sat a top the abandoned warehouse, an unfiltered cigarette clenched between his lips, a skinning knife in his right boot, a hatchet clipped to his belt and a revolver in his hands. He twirled the revolver as he waited for his prey, taking hits of the cigarette, his steel gray eyes scanning the darkness.

"Alright, Bill," Starkweather said to him through an earpiece, "the prick should be coming soon. Make sure you give the camera a show."

"In't that Cash guy giv'n you nuff' of a show t'night, Stark?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong, he's been absolutely delightful to watch, but you're the star of this particular flick. You wouldn't want to disappoint your adoring fans in your first feature-length movie, would you?"

"S'pose not... plus t' pay's good nuff'. Whateva' you say, Stark."

Sure enough, the poor bastard came sneaking out a burned out diner, holding a 2x4 with some nails pounded through it. While the job was certainly easy enough, Bill did wish that Starkweather would arm his prey a little better. Added to the thrill of the hunt, he always thought. Nonetheless, he quit twirling his gun around and aimed his revolver. Taking one final hit of the cigarette, he squeezed the trigger, which went right into the right hand of his target, sending fragments of bone and splinters of wood showering from the wound. The prey, needless to say, dropped the weapon and screamed, grasping his hand. Bill let out a low chuckle, happy with his shot, before getting serious once more.

Xoxoxoxoxoxo

"Run."

"W... what?" Roddy had no idea what the fuck was going on. All he knew was that he woke up with a crudely made weapon, and was told "Kill or be killed" by some sick fucker who called himself "The Director."

"Run, fore' I d'side t' kill ya now."

Roddy stumbled around in confusion until another bullet whizzed right past his ear. He then took off running as fast as he could through the dark alleyway. However, it wasn't that long before he felt his right kneecap explode all over the pavement. He had been shot dead on. Roddy fell to the ground face first, a sickening _crack_ signifying that he had broken his nose on the pavement. He rolled over to see a shadowy figure drop from a building and land perfectly on his feet.

"Boy, hate t' do this t' ya, but can't be denyin' t' pay that m' bein' offered fer' this. Nothin' personal."

Roddy watched the shadow holster his gun and draw something else from his belt. The figure stepped into the light to reveal himself, and had Roddy not been terrified, he would have been quite impressed. The man standing before him was a truly authentic cowboy. A worn black cowboy hat covered the man's shoulder length gray hair, which hung over his face, hiding his pale blue eyes. A black and white blood-stained flannel covered his torso, with a dirty duster over that. Dirt-and-blood stained jeans clung to the man's legs, and were tucked into some worn snake skin cowboy boots. It was now in the light that Roddy noticed that the cowboy was wielding a hatchet.

"Be sure t' scream real loud-like, boy. The Director loves that shit."

"Who... who are you?" Roddy stuttered out.

"Name's Bloody Bill..." Bill raised the hatchet high above his head, "...and nobody who knows m' name's ever lived t' tell the tale..."

Roddy let out a miniscule squeak of a scream before the hatchet came down on his forehead, spraying his blood and brain matter all over the man known as Bloody Bill.

Xoxoxoxoxoxo

It took five minutes for Bill to dismember the prey and skin his face off. He pulled another cigarette from his pack and lit it with a match before wiping the blood off of his hatchet.

"Well, ya happy?" Bill asked. It took a second before Starkweather responded.

"Delighted, Bill. Absolutely delighted. Now, there should be... Cash? What the fuck are you doing in here? Now, just calm down..."

Bill heard a scuffle before he heard nothing but silence. He released a large bit of smoke from his lungs before pulling a cell phone from his pocket. He went to his contacts and selected a number. It rang twice before he got an answer.

"Bill."

"He dead, in't he?"

"I'm afraid so, Bill."

"Who'd he take wit' m'?"

"I'm afraid that the White Rabbit, Ramirez and Piggsy have also been terminated."

"N' whose left?"

"We still have you, as well as Binbag, Scarecrow, Giggles, The Operator, Diablos, Barber and King... wait, I just got conformation that King had been eliminated."

Bill leaned his head back and took another hit of the cigarette. He held it for a moment and exhaled before speaking again.

"So, where d' we go from ere'?"

"Simple. We meet up tomorrow night and discuss our options."

"We mee'n at t' usual place?"

"Surely this cannot be a serious inquiry, Bill. Once the press gets wind of this, the police will have no choice but to investigate what has been occurring, meaning that Starkweather's mansion will be swarming with police. Let me think... alright, I think I know a place. Do you know where Lo Hung Chinese is?"

"Reckon' I do."

"It just so happens that the owner, Mr. Hung, owes me a favor. Therefore, we shall meet there tomorrow night at 10 PM. Is this understood."

"Loud n' clear. Y' want me t' holler at th' others?"

"There will be no need. Like you, they each have a phone of their own. Right now, Barber and The Operator are filming, so I'll have to contact them later in the evening, but I shall be contacting the others as soon as I get off the line with you. Bill, where are we meeting tomorrow?"

"Lo Hung Chine'e, 10 PM. I was listenin'."

"Just making sure. We will talk then."

Bill hung up the phone and put it in his pocket. He finished the cigarette and stamped it out before grabbing his phone and calling Mr. Nasty back.

"Can I help you, Bill?"

"Y' still got a clean up crew fer' t' prey, right?"

"Don't worry, Bill. Mr. Starkweather's met his end, but most of the junkies have no clue, so they'll still be following his orders out of fear."

"Jus' checkin'."

"Goodbye, Bill"


	2. Mr Nasty's Grand Plan

Bill walked into the Lo Hung Chinese Restaurant at 9:55 PM sharp. He was dressed down quite a bit from the previous night, wearing a red flannel button up tucked into his blue jeans. He walked up to the counter.

"M' lookin' fer' a Mr. Smiley. Can y' tell m' where I can find m'?"

The man behind the counter said something in Chinese, but he gestured and began to walk away, and Bill followed him. The Chinese man led Bill inside of the freezer, moved a few boxes then lifted up a trap door, gesturing toward it. Bill merely nodded and climbed down a ladder. He found himself in a very damp basement, dimly lit by a few candles that led to a heavy wooden door. He walked to the door and pushed it open to see a table with a whole host of characters sitting around it. Bill nodded at the gathering of people at sat down. A few moments later, the door opened and a man dressed in a black wife beater, black jeans, black combat boots and a white hockey mask walked in and took a seat at the head of the table.

"Gentlemen, I am extremely pleased that you could all make it. It feels rather odd having all of you here, since Mr. Starkweather and I had never dealt with any of you on anything but an individual level, but I digress. As I am sure you can all guess, I am Mr. Nasty, Mr. Starkweather's former right-hand man, and the new chairman of Starkweather Enterprises. You, of course, are the surviving stars of our pictures. Unfortunately, I regret to inform you all that White Rabbit, Ramirez, Piggsy and King were all eliminated. As much as I would like to introduce you all to one another, I fear that doing so would rather compromise my plans."

"Exactly what are these plans, anyway?" A man with a thick British accent and a very nice suit blurted out.

"Ah, all in time, Barber." Mr. Nasty cleared his throat. "As I am sure you are all aware of by now, Mr. Starkweather was killed last night. Now, I was unsure as to what we should do about our upcoming pictures, but I have an idea that would allow us to all escape this life, and have quite a bit of money to fall back on. You see, Mr. Starkweather used his picture with Daniel Lamb as a test to see what would happen if we had a killer from the streets face off against our killers and, while the end results were a little less than satisfactory, the footage we had gathered was top notch stuff. Ultimately, I have decided that I wish to have something like that, but on a much bigger scale."

Mr. Nasty pulled a remote from his pocket and turned on a projector that was hidden in the shadows above everyone. The projector displayed an image of an abandoned city.

"The image you are looking at is of a city known as New Edison. New Edison, as I am sure some of you know, is a city that was abandoned in the 1950's due to a bio-hazard. While the hazard proved to be little more than a cry-wolf situation, the city remains completely abandoned. I wish to breathe new life into this city."

Mr. Nasty pressed a button and the image switched over to various pictures of street gangs. "These gangs are all in our pocket right now. What I want to do is have one final battle royal where all of you will join these gangs in hunting down our prey."

He hit the button again, and the image flashed over to a collection of six mug shots. "These six ladies and gentlemen are all like Daniel Lamb- They are all on death row, and they are all dangerous killers. I have arranged a deal with the prisons they are located in to take their believed-to-be-dead bodies and place them in New Edison. From the moment they wake up, their jobs will be to kill the gangs, as well as all of you, as well as the other five inmates. The job of yourselves and the gangs will simply be to kill these six inmates. We take the footage, we sell them, we advertise it as our last picture ever, and we find ourselves with enough money to retire on. Any questions?"

The room remained silent, some because they were satisfied with the plan, some out of fear of Mr. Nasty.

"Then it is settled. I expect to see all of you back here in a month, where we will discuss the plan further."

AUTHOR NOTE: First things first, I want to apologize for how long it's been since I've updated this story. I've been quite busy. Also, I would like to apologize for how "Weak" this chapter is. I usually dislike explanation chapters, but I lost the original version of this chapter, and I wanted to get this out so I could really start with this story. In the next chapter "The Final Picture" will begin. I would like to let you know now that it might be a little while until the next chapter comes out, since my life is rather chaotic and I don't have as much time to write as I'd like. However, I will definitely make sure that the next chapter, and the upcoming chapters, will be worth every second of waiting. Until then, remember to leave a review, and let me know what type of situations you'd like to see in this story. Since I lost a big chunk of my plans for this story in a flood (I had at least 10 chapters planned out in a notebook that was destroyed), I'm still re-writing a lot of what I want to do, and I am very open to reader input. I'm writing this not only for my own enjoyment, but for the enjoyment of the readers, and I want to know what you want to see in this story. Until next time... adios!


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